


Like a Dragon in a Snowstorm

by hecateandhoney (LiveLoveLikeMe)



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Pining, holiday fluff, ww2018winterfluffevent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-09-05 10:18:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16808698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveLoveLikeMe/pseuds/hecateandhoney
Summary: Hecate always spends the holidays alone in Cackle's, but this year Ada's sticking around, intent on instilling some holiday cheer into her deputy head.  She can't think of anything more wonderful than spending the holidays with the woman she secretly loves.  Incidentally, she also can't think of anything more terrifying.Part of the Worst Witch Winter Fluff Event 2018





	1. First Snowfall

**Author's Note:**

> Hey hi hello, long time no post! I've decided to do something a little chaotic for this lovely event, which I'm very excited about. You'll notice as the days go on, I'll be posting this all as three separate stories. I've divided the prompts into three groups and formed them into three different stories-- but of course, they're all scattered about throughout the month. Because they're all different ships, you'll notice this same explanation at the start of each one. I just didn't want anyone to feel completely lost by what will undoubtedly look like a very scattered arrangement. 
> 
> And a small disclaimer, I will try to post one a day, but I'll be out of town for about a week and might fall a bit behind at some point this month. I have every intention of catching up on them if that happens.
> 
> Now, without further ado, enjoy my fluffy holiday fun!

Day One: First Snowfall

The first snowfall has always set Hecate on edge. There’s something so entirely peaceful and serene about it, that frozen quality of silence and stillness, that she just knows is a big broad invitation to chaos. There is little that she’s found to be a worse omen for disaster than those moments where everything seems too perfect. 

So as she’s looking out the window and fiddling with her timepiece, trying to fight the urge in her muscles to tense against an attack that’s sure to come, it’s really not all that surprising to see Ada slide up beside her with an excited look on her face.

Ahh, here it is, the impending disaster has struck.

She sighs with relief and turns away from the soft white blanket coating the grounds below to nod in greeting to the older woman. At least if she must hear whatever it is this time, she’s glad it’s coming from Ada. Glad that the woman who takes everything just a little too lightly, and delivers the news just a little too cheerily, will try her best to soften the blow for her.

Or perhaps it’s nothing to do with any of Ada’s ridiculous ability to shrug off impending doom, and much more down to the way she always looks at her so warmly, her heart skips a beat. 

It’s really very difficult to tell, and Hecate’s not one for taking guesses, so she prefers not to dwell on it, fearing the conclusion she might find.

“The first snow really is beautiful, isn’t it, Hecate?” Ada asks dreamily, glancing up at her with one of those smiles that bring out the barest hint of a dimple in her cheeks, and Hecate has to brace herself by tightening her grip on the windowsill. Beautiful, indeed.

Instead of playing into whatever tactic this is, Hecate turns back to looking outside. “It is an invitation for catastrophe.”

“You always do have quite a way of looking on the bright side of things,” Ada teases.

She can’t help the tiny smile that spreads across her face, knowing the comment is meant in the kindest form of jest. 

“Everything is too quiet. I keep waiting for Mildred Hubble to come tearing through with a dragon on her tail.”

Ada chuckles. “The students have already returned home for break this morning. I think we’re safe to assume that won’t happen at least until the New Year.”

“Never underestimate Mildred Hubble’s ability for chaos,” Hecate says dryly with a punctuating sniff. “And if it’s not her, something else will come along.”

“Hmm, well let’s hope you’re wrong this time. As it is, I’ve come with some good news!” Ada exclaims, clasping her hands together and turning to face Hecate. This time she can’t look away, knowing it would be rude, and stifles a threatening grimace.

“Oh, what might that be?”

“Mother is going to be away until just before Christmas, so rather than staying alone in her house—and without Agatha, it’ll be quite lonely this year—well, I thought I might stay here at Cackle’s for a few extra days!”

Ahh yes, there it is, the disaster she’d been expecting. Wrapped up nicely in the form of Ada Cackle’s excitement.

All the little cogs start turning in her head, jumping around between excitement at extra time alone with Ada, and terror at what she might accidentally reveal given _extra time alone with Ada._

“You mean we’ll be here? Alone?” Hecate asks, trying to fake a smile.

“That is what I’d had in mind, yes. Unless… oh dear. I assumed you’d be happy for the company for once, but I do hope I’m not interrupting your time off,” her excitement begins to fall, and Hecate’s heart sinks deep to her stomach. No amount of self-torment is worth putting that look on Ada Cackle’s wonderful face.

“I’m happy to have your company, Ada,” she says softly, and she does mean it. “I just hope it will be enough for you, I know how you look forward to seeing your family every year, and I’m afraid I don’t know much about how to celebrate.”

“That’s all right,” Ada says, patting her softly on the shoulder, and Hecate knows she means it. “I don’t need any grand celebration. Just your company, if you’re willing to give it for a few days.”

It’s a simple offer, one Hecate would be absolutely foolish to turn down, but it’s always different when they’re alone, and the cold makes Hecate long for things she knows she’ll never have. She looks back out at the snow, and though she’s been disrupted, it remains so perfectly intact.

If only she could somehow emulate it, but loving the snow is just as foolish as loving Ada—they’ll never love her back, but she can still appreciate her time with them if she’s careful not to touch.

“Of course,” she says quietly after a moment’s pause. “We can get a head start on some of those expense reports, I suppose.”

Ada rolls her eyes. “Hecate, just because I’m here does not mean you’re back on duty. In fact, I’m afraid I’ll have to insist on a complete ban from doing anything related to work.”

“But… but I always—“

“All the more reason it’s good I’ll be here then. We don’t have to do anything too festive, but look at the wonderful fresh snow we have! Can’t we just enjoy some time together with it?”

Her face warms at the thought of Ada, cheeks red with cold, smiling up at her as little delicate snowflakes land, catching her eyelashes and melting on her lips.

“I’m not sure how I’ll enjoy my time with the snow,” Hecate sniffs, turning to face Ada with a soft smile on her face, “but I’m certain I can enjoy my time with you.”

Ada smiles back. “Then it’s settled! I may not have been successful in getting you to come to Mother’s for the holidays in the past, but I’m so glad we’ll finally be able to spend part of the season together.”

Hecate tries not to flinch at the last word, tries not to let it mean so much more to her than Ada means it. _Together_. She’s never been one for the holiday season, never cared much about the presents or the meals, but the togetherness she’s craved. The togetherness with _Ada_. But of course, she only means it as friends, only means any of this to be time spent as friends, and while she longs for it to mean more, she treasures the little branch Ada’s offering this year, and she’ll endure the longing if it means getting a taste.

Ada turns to leave, undoubtedly heading off to decorate impossibly more for the staff party, but Hecate stops her, reaching out just enough to graze her sleeve. She turns and looks expectantly, patient as ever as she waits for Hecate to find a way to get the words out.

“Thank you,” she says simply instead. She knows Ada will understand what she means, knows she won’t make her spell it out.

Ada’s always given everything so freely, yet never asked anything more from Hecate than she has from the first snow—never asked for an explanation, never pressed for more than she’s been presented—and for that she’s grateful.

"You'll see, Hecate, we'll make a good time of it."

For that, and for so much more, she loves her. 


	2. Four: Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for your kind words on the first chapter! I'm so glad this is being appreciated. I am loving this event!

Four: Party

Others might whisper _Grinch_ when she stalks around, removing frivolous decor that trivializes the importance of Yule and vanishing all the sugary sweets parents send to disrupt the last of her lessons before the term ends, but Ada never has. Ada, who covers her office floor to ceiling in red and green, who insists on a massive tree taking up half the great hall, has never once begrudged Hecate her preferred celebratory methods of all but ignoring the festivities, has always respected that about her.

Which is why every year, Hecate makes one small concession and attends the staff holiday party on the last night before she’s left to her beloved solitude for the remainder of the break. 

Because Ada lights up brighter than that ridiculous tree, and Hecate can accept one evening of discomfort for such a high prize.

So she finds herself donning her ceremonial robes—certainly _not_ that short sparkly scrap of fabric claiming the title of a dress Dimity’s left as what she can only imagine has been some sort of joke in her office—putting just a little more thought into her wardrobe than she usually would. 

Hecate’s had time to warm to the idea of spending the upcoming days alone with Ada—time to work herself into a panic several times as well, but time to think about how nice it will be, like fulfilling a little childhood wish hidden deeply within. She wants to make this worthwhile for Ada, wants to give her some of what she’ll be missing at home and put that smile on her face as often as she can manage.

Dressing up for the party, she decides, is one way she might succeed in doing just that.

The ceremonial robes are non-negotiable, but her hair doesn’t have to sit so tightly in a bun. It is, after all, a celebration, even if she loathes the very concept. Frowning at herself in the mirror, Hecate twitches a finger and watches as her bun unweaves itself from the braid, cascading around her in a bundle of curls. It’s immediately too much, and she spells her brush to tame it into something demur, yet elegant. A slight curl that suits her face and reminds her of the older film actwitches Ada so enjoys watching.

She nods at herself once in the mirror, takes a deep breath, then transfers away before she can change her mind and back out.

“You clean up nice, Hardbroom,” Dimity says the moment she materializes, unfortunately closer to the other witch than she’d have liked. “Though you’d have looked better in that dress I left you.”

Hecate scowls. “It is a staff party, not an excuse to dress myself as a lady of the night. Ada would hardly appreciate—“

“Oh, I think we both know Ada would _definitely_ appreciate that,” Dimity whispers a little too loudly with a wink. Judging by the half-empty cup of witches brew clutched in her fist—hardly the first, Hecate would guess, as she’s taken too long to talk herself into coming and the party is already fully in swing—Dimity’s remaining sense of a filter is all but gone for the night.

Wonderful.

Hecate scoffs at the thought of Ada appreciating her in anything of the sort. It is a fantasy she does not wish to dwell upon, one Dimity couldn’t be more wrong about. 

“Oh, please, HB. Besides, I hear you and Ada have some alone time for a few days here,” she pauses to wriggle her brow suggestively. “You can always pull it out then.”

Hecate can feel herself blushing, and quickly grabs for a flute of champagne from the drink table they stand beside. Anything to take her mind off the idea. 

“I do not think Ada would be so appreciative.”

Dimity rolls her eyes. “Don’t tell me you don’t know?” she asks in exasperation. 

“What doesn’t Hecate know?” Ada asks from behind.

So wrapped up in her own embarrassment at Dimity’s suggestions, Hecate hasn’t heard her coming closer. She sputters and coughs on the champagne as the bubbles burn her tensed throat. 

“Oh dear, are you all right?” Ada asks in concern, patting Hecate on the back. She stiffens at the contact.

“Perfectly fine,” she croaks out, patting her chest to get her breathing back under control. “I was merely taken off guard by one of Dimity’s attempted jokes,” she deadpans.

“I see.” Ada looks between them like she’s waiting for the joke to be shared, but neither make a move to tell her a word of the conversation. “Well then,” she turns and steps back, facing Hecate fully. “My, you look lovely tonight, Hecate.”

Hecate can hardly respond though, because Ada is now in full view. She’s in a long, modest but stunning red dress with a big red bow in the back, which Hecate sees as Ada swivels towards the table to get a drink for herself. Her hair is pulled back into a small French twist, complete with a poinsettia pin holding it all in place. Hecate guzzles down a large gulp of champagne with far too little grace, but Ada doesn’t notice.

“You look beautiful, Ada,” she finally manages to say. 

“Oh, thank you, dear.” Ada’s smiling just as brightly as she had hoped she would, and Hecate finds she’s not disappointed. Even if the smile is for the party and the compliment, not for her, it’s worth witnessing. 

At some point, Dimity has fled the scene, leaving them alone by the drinks table. Hecate feels too hot already, whether from the champagne or her insulated robes, she isn’t sure. The party, while decorated grandly, is a modest affair. Music plays, so many are dancing, and there’s food and plenty of people to talk to if you’re into that—Hecate is not. Soon enough, Ada will have spent her allotted time entertaining Hecate for the evening, and she’ll be free to escape.

“I do so love what Gwen’s done with the music this year, don’t you?” Ada asks conversationally. She’s swaying in her place, looking out longingly at the dancefloor.

Dimity’s words are still swirling with the champagne in Hecate’s head—what does she not know about Ada? A small fraction of her brain thinks she has an idea, and a bigger bit thinks it’s an impossible one.

“Ada,” Hecate begins before she can lose her nerve. She knows even if she’s wrong, the older woman is longing for someone to share the song with her. It’s only fair she gets the change to ask first—it’s their party tradition, after all. “Would you like to dance?”

Ada startles at the question, and for a moment Hecate feels like she’s made a very big mistake indeed. Ada’s appalled at the thought of dancing with her this year, even if she is aching for someone to ask. As usual, Hecate’s misread everything. 

But before she can backtrack and flee, Ada’s face bursts into the widest smile of all. She grabs Hecate’s empty flute and sets their glasses down to be discarded on a table. “I would love to!” she exclaims.

Before she knows it, Ada has whisked her out onto the dance floor. The song is slow—thankfully, as Hecate isn’t much of a dancer, and has never known how to move her hips when the beat picks up. She stands stiffly and properly as her instructors as a child had tried to teach her, taking the lead and carefully guiding Ada around the floor.

Somewhere in the distance, Hecate spots Dimity giving her a drunken thumbs up and some other undecipherable gesture, and rolls her eyes.

“Something the matter?” Ada asks. She’s been humming the song to herself as they dance, and while it’s almost too quiet to hear, Hecate’s noticed the vibrations of it in her palms. 

“Just Miss Drill being lude, as usual. Someone should cut her off,” Hecate explains.

“It’s a party. I think after the term we’ve had, we can all afford to let loose a little,” Ada says thoughtfully.

Ada’s hands are so warm, and the heat of it all is making her head spin, but she’s not sure she’s ready to move away.

“Careful, I might take that to mean you wish for me to dance longer than our one traditional number.”

Ada chuckles. “Only if you’re dancing with me. You’re quite a good partner, I’d hate to have to share.”

“Ada Cackle, we both know I have two left feet.” But still Hecate blushes, again blaming the champagne.

“Yes, but this year I came prepared and spelled my shoes,” Ada chuckles conspiratorially, “so by all means, dance the night away.”


	3. Seven: Ice Skating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking around and being so kind! I'm heading off for the week, so I'll try to keep posting on the right days, but I may end up a little delayed. This story, at least, is written, just not edited, so it should be fine.

Seven: Ice Skating

Hecate thinks, as she’s trudging awkwardly through the snow that keeps trying desperately to trip her up, that she should have known it would be a terrible idea to spend the winter days alone with Ada. The older woman has an uncanny ability to persuade her far too easily. In the past few days she’s been recruited to help build a snowman, taken several midnight walks through the snow around the grounds, and spent countless hours in front of Ada’s fire reading through potions books. In all that time, it’s been a miracle she’s survived Ada’s constant company without simply crumbling into a swooning mess.

She’s sure she’s come close to giving herself away at least twice.

But Ada, of course, knows all of Hecate’s buttons and just when to push them.

This morning, for instance, she’d greeted her at breakfast with a bright smile stretching cheek to cheek and a vague exclamation about a wonderful idea she’d had.

Normally, Hecate would want exact details and a timetable to consider before making up her mind about any sort of outing, but apparently Ada’s cracked the code to bypass her system, because here she is an hour later following her across the grounds, _walking_ through the snow to an unknown destination.

“Ada, are you certain this is a good idea?” Hecate asks wearily. She’s almost convinced they’re heading towards the pond.

“It will be great fun!” Ada cheers, going on ahead without turning back to check her deputy is still following. They both know Hecate won’t leave her side, even if she will complain dramatically for the next two hours. “Agatha and I used to come down here at the start of every winter.”

“To the pond?” Hecate questions with a quirked mouth. 

“You’ll see, Hecate!”

Soon enough she does see. While a fairly quaint pond in the warmer months, there’s something majestic about it now, covered in a thin sheet of ice and snow. It’s like a little winter wonderland drawing them both nearer to the edge, and Hecate understands now why Ada’s wanted her to see it. Sometimes she forgets to pause and look at things.

“It’s beautiful, Ada,” she says honestly, smiling over at the other woman. “Thank you for showing it to me, especially when it has such a special memory for you.”

She expects some sort of story to follow—any reason in particular why Ada saw fit to bring her here besides the beautiful view, which seems to be a running theme along most of the grounds of Cackle’s. Instead, Ada merely nods, looking curiously down at the thin layer of ice coating the pond, and she reaches out to tap it with her fingertips.

“Ada? Is everything all right?” Hecate asks. She steps cautiously closer and bends down beside the other woman, peering at the ice to see what she’s missing. 

“I’m just checking the strength of it. Normally I’d wait for nature to finish up, but since we’re here, I don’t think a little help will hurt.” Ada winks at her and turns back to the ice with a look of intense concentration. She raises her hand pointed straight in front of her and a little icy wisp swirls out from it, settling into the ice with a crackle.

“What are you doing?” Hecate’s never seen such strange behavior from her friend—and she’s seen the headmistress do many odd things in her time. 

“Making sure the ice is strong enough to hold us,” Ada says like it’s perfectly natural. 

“Couldn’t we just walk around it?” Hecate’s face knots up in concern. She’s not entirely sure she wants to set foot on ice, magically strengthened or not.

“Walk around it… what?” Ada stands, looking curiously up at her like she’s finally remembered she brought Hecate with her. “Hecate, I thought we might go ice skating. That’s why I brought you here.”

“Oh.” Hecate purses her lips. “Are you certain that’s… safe?”

Ada rolls her eyes playfully. “I’m quite sure, and if I’m wrong—which I’m sure you’ll notice before any harm can befall us—the water’s only a meter deep at most, dear. Now come along!”

Hecate holds her breath as Ada first transforms her boots into ice skates, and then as she steps out onto the ice. True to her word, it holds her, and she flits out gracefully to the middle with her head bent back and her face taking on the lightly falling snow.

Hecate does not want to get on the ice, but she also doesn’t want to stay aside and miss Ada’s joy up close. It’s an impossible choice to have to make, really, and she’ll be cursing the fates for it later. She mimics what Ada did to her own boots and stands on them carefully. She’s not new to balancing, and finds ease in it, but the ice is a different story. As soon as she’s on it, she’s presented with the clear problem of moving. 

“Hecate, are you coming?” Ada asks, spinning around at the center to watch her progress. Hecate tenses in embarrassment.

“I’m fine over here,” she lies. How is she supposed to move her feet without falling? Can she just transfer to Ada’s side?

“I see,” Ada says softly. With a smile, she skates back over to the side where Hecate remains firmly planted. “Would you like me to show you?” she whispers, like she’s uncovered the secret of Hecate’s fear and doesn’t wish to announce it, even though no one else is around to hear. Hecate blushes.

“You don’t have to,” she says awkwardly, not wanting Ada to miss out on any of her fun.

“Nonsense, I want to. May I take your hands?” Ada asks.

Hecate wants to say no, because the very thought of the contact has made them tremble, and Ada will notice and figure her out. She stares so patiently, no hint of judgment on her face, that Hecate finds her hands acting against her will anyways, reaching out towards Ada’s welcoming palms. She manages a nod, not trusting her voice.

“My,” Ada squeaks, “your fingers are freezing. Perhaps I should have suggested gloves—you’re practically shaking.” 

_Not because of the cold_ , Hecate thinks, but she grabs up the offered excuse. “They’re a bit cold, but I’ll be fine,” she insists. 

Ada hums and wraps her own warm hands firmly around Hecate’s, so they’re facing each other and connected in the center. “Now, you just hold on as tightly as you need. I’ll back up and you can use me for balance. Just glide your feet forward one at a time,” Ada instructs. 

Hecate doesn’t know how she finds the strength to follow when Ada’s so close and smiling at her so reassuringly, but somehow she does. It is as far from graceful as possible, and she slips and slides, clutching with increased tightness to Ada’s hands the further they go. 

“You’re doing wonderfully,” Ada says, much like she would to one of the first years attempting a mediocre job at a level one spell. Yet still, Hecate preens under the praise. 

They go on like this for a while, Ada guiding her, Hecate gaining more confidence in her footing, until she feels she’s monopolized too much of Ada’s fun and stops them. 

“I think I’m ready to try on my own now, but thank you, Ada,” she says gratefully. There’s a pang of loss the moment she releases Ada’s hands, the cold biting at her fingers with a vengeance, and she squeezes them together to fight it off. 

“If you’re certain, Hecate. I’ll stand right here and watch a few laps, just in case you need me,” Ada says with a reassuring wink.

Hecate begins. She slides a little off kilter at first, but soon finds her feet.

She’s doing it! She’s moving, almost with a hint of elegance she thinks, around Ada in the center of the pond. The blonde is smiling at her, and the sun reflects off it in such a dazzling way that it catches too much of Hecate’s attention. She glides with too much gusto and knows before she’s made impact that it’s going to be a hard smack down onto the ice. Her lower back smarts in pain and she hisses, more from the embarrassment than anything.

She can hear Ada bustling in concern, trying to help her up, but Hecate closes her eyes and waves her off. Children can do this with ease, yet one look from Ada and she’s nothing more than a fumbling disaster. There’s no control she can find out here on the ice, and the humiliation builds hotly within her. She identifies the sensation a moment too late, having long since forgotten just how suddenly accidental magic can take hold in times of distress, and the heat roars to life under her skin.

Within a second, the ice beneath her has been melted, and she’s plunged into the icy water that cools every nerve in her body. She tries to stand, but her dress makes the movement awkward in the freezing water. She snaps out of her reverie just long enough to think to transfer herself back out to the side of the pond.

Her control is back, and she grasps at it firmly even as she shakes with the cold that wracks through her in intense shivers, gasping for a breath that burns her lungs. Ada transfers to her side in a moment, kneeling down into the snow beside her in concern.

“Are you all right?” she asks wildly, checking Hecate over for signs of injury. “I’m so sorry, Hecate, I must not have made it as strong as I thought,” Ada adds, sounding guilty.

Hecate wants to tell her that it’s not her fault, that her own embarrassing, childish slip in control had caused the ice to melt, but she can’t get the words out—she can’t get any words out. She’s shivering so hard, Hecate can barely think. Her mind is screaming with the cold, but she’s too stiff to try and dry herself, and it seems useless as the water’s already begun to freeze into the fabric of her dress.

“Let’s get you inside, shall we?” Ada asks, trying to sound calm. Hecate can only nod with a swift jerk of her head as Ada transfers them back inside to her warm chambers.


	4. Eleven: Snuggling for Warmth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know how sometimes you spend a ton of time writing as many chapters as you can early so that while you're out of town for 10 days, all you'll have to do is edit and post them to stay caught up, but then you get there and have no time or energy to even turn your laptop on? Just me? Hehe SORRY!!!! I have so much I'll be posting in the upcoming days until I'm back on track again. Thanks for your patience, I really appreciate all the kind comments!

Eleven: Huddling/Snuggling for warmth

Immediately she feels the strength of Ada’s roaring fire and nearly plunges herself into it just for the warmth, but Ada’s there holding her firmly back and using her magic to slide one of the couches as close as she safely can. 

“Sit here. We need to get you warmed up, but not too fast, Hecate. Your body won’t appreciate the shock.”

Hecate only nods, teeth chattering. Her bones feel frozen with pain, and she’s starting to regret her choice to go out in her usual dress. Ada helps her out of the cloak she’d had the sense to put on, which is difficult as the ice weighs it down, and in the end it was hardly effective in stopping the water from reaching her dress, as that clings to her skin and locks her movements in place. 

“I’m afraid we’ll have to get you out of that dress,” Ada says sternly.

Hecate must be delirious, imagining Ada saying _those_ words to her. 

“Hecate? I’m sorry but I really must insist,” Ada adds. 

It jolts her from her wandering thoughts much like the icy waters, and she manages a strangled peep of approval. She’s so cold, she can’t think straight, can’t think why this is a horrible idea. Ada looks hopefully down at her, like she’s hoping Hecate will take charge and pull herself together enough to take it off herself, but she can’t. Her arms are tense and they tremble with the cold.

She registers the feeling of a weight on her shoulders and realizes Ada’s wrapping a large knitted blanket around her shivering form.

“I know you enjoy your modesty,” she explains. Hecate understands why a moment later.

Her body seems to scream with relief as the icy dress is magically transferred from her body, leaving her only in her underthings. Hecate blanches and tries to cover herself, only to remember the blanket Ada’s already rested across her. She clutches at it and holds it tightly around herself, sucking in all the warmth she can get.

“Th-than-nk y-y-ou,” she manages to stutter. 

Another blanket is soon added on top, but it’s not enough. She’s still shivering something awful, and she can’t remember ever having felt such cold in her life. Ada’s looking at her with trepidation, and she manages to tilt her head in question, not trusting herself with anymore words just yet.

“I’m worried you’re not getting warm enough,” she says, twisting her hands together. “Only… body heat is supposed to be the most effective way.”

She looks wearily at the space beside Hecate and takes a seat. “I know you’re not normally one for touching, and I hope you know I respect that greatly, but I think in this instance I’m going to have to insist. Your lips are a bit blue, dear, and I’m quite worried.” It’s clear she’s been talking herself up to saying this for quite a while now, and Hecate wonders just how long she’s been here shivering away. “I’m sure you’d be brewing up some sort of warming potion without a second’s thought, but I’m afraid I’m not as quick as you on that front, and I wouldn’t like to see this go on that much longer.”

She doesn’t hate contact, not from Ada. She hates how it makes her heart race wildly in her chest, how her foolish organ threatens to expose her secret every time, but she can’t tell Ada that. 

She also hates how worried Ada looks, though, and she can’t blame that on anyone but herself.

“P-please,” she manages to say through her numb lips.

It’s all the permission Ada seems to need, and before Hecate knows what’s happening, the older woman has burrowed herself in beside Hecate under the top blanket, leaving her knitted modesty layer in place. Strong arms wrap around her shoulders, and slowly, methodically, Ada’s hands begin rubbing up and down against the blanket covering Hecate’s arms, forcing her circulation to pick up the slack.

She can’t hold back the sigh that breathes out between her lips— _Ada is warm_.

Ada is so warm, she’s not sure she’s ever truly felt warmth before, and for a minute she doesn’t care if the older woman feels how her heart speeds up, as long as the warmth never goes away.

“Better?” Ada asks knowingly.

“Much,” Hecate sighs.

If Ada feels her heart, she doesn’t mention it, for which Hecate is very grateful. She can’t get the past few days from her head—Ada wanting her to stay and dance, Ada taking her hands on the ice. It could all be explained away so easily, but it could also mean more, and maybe it’s the cold talking, but she’s almost not afraid to risk hoping that it does. 

Ada is here, caring for her in spite of her penchant for a temper against any fuss, holding her in a way that feels just a little too intimate for friends. At least, more intimate than Hecate’s friends have ever been. And she can’t stop herself from smiling, lips cracked with cold protesting against the strain, at how Ada had cared to make sure she was okay with it.

Every part of her feels like it’s coming back to life again, and Ada’s the fuel pouring it into her. Slowly, as they sit in silence, Ada gently rubbing to warm her and humming slightly to herself, Hecate begins to feel her magic thawing. Her toes begin to tingle, her fingers begin to twitch, and even her nose begins to tickle.

As if on cue, Hecate tries her best to swivel away, though doesn’t get very far within the confines of Ada’s arms. She sneezes twice, sharply, into the blanket at her shoulder, sniffling pathetically and blushing with embarrassment. “Excuse me.”

Ada merely smiles and pats her arm reassuringly. “Not to worry, Hecate. It’s good to see some color back in your cheeks,” she says with a lighthearted giggle.

Hecate’s blush only deepens, her cheeks now battling out the stinging cold with a heat of their own. 

“It’s not your fault, you know,” Hecate admits, wanting to take away the guilt she can still feel radiating off each of Ada’s movements. “Loathe as I am to admit it, I lost control and melted the ice.” She looks down, wanting to melt into the blankets with the rest of the cold. It is shameful for a witch of her abilities to do such a thing.

Ada, however, doesn’t seem to care. In fact, much to her annoyance after such a deep admission, Ada bubbles with laughter that shakes them both.

“Is my humiliation humorous to you?” Hecate asks sourly. 

“Of course not, I would hope you’d already have known that,” Ada says, sobering slightly at the implication, and Hecate feels shamed for suggesting it. 

“I do,” she says with a sigh. “I apologize. It has been a long day, and I’m tired.”

“No need to apologize,” Ada says kindly. “I shouldn’t have laughed. It’s only that I’ve been feeling so horribly for letting you fall through the ice, it never even occurred to me that you might have just melted right through it in embarrassment.”

She can tell Ada’s trying not to burst into laughter again and frowns, failing to see the humor behind it. She’d done something rudimentary at best, something she’d penalize any of her students for doing themselves. Yet, through the mirth twinkling in Ada’s eyes, Hecate can feel herself beginning to crack.

And then they’re both laughing, Hecate leaning further into Ada’s embrace for support, and everything is warm.


	5. Fourteen: Ugly Sweaters

Fourteen: Ugly/Silly holiday jumpers/clothing

It’s after the fifth or sixth time Hecate turns to the side to sneeze that they realize they can’t keep pretending it’s fine to stay huddled up forever. Ada pulls away, no doubt disgusted by Hecate’s increased sniveling, or so she thinks, and walks across the room. 

As nice as it is to have her hands free once more, Hecate misses the warmth more.

When Ada returns with an embroidered red handkerchief—festive, of course—Hecate rolls her eyes but accepts it gratefully.

“I’m sorry to say it, but I’m worried that cold may have latched on more than you’d like,” Ada says with a tsk. 

“I’m fine,” Hecate lies, more to herself than to Ada. 

“Hmm, well, even so, it can’t help to sit here in your…” Ada closes her eyes and looks away, reminding them both of Hecate’s current state of undress beneath the blankets.

She must be mistaken, for it looks like Ada seems almost a little embarrassed herself by it, and Ada’s never one to be shy.

“My underthings?” Hecate chokes out, finishing the thought for her. Ada nods.

“Let me get you something warm to put on. Surely you have something soft and snugly hidden away somewhere?” Ada asks hopefully. “I can just pop over to your closet, if you don’t mind my intrusion.”

“Of course not, Ada, you’re always welcome, but I’m afraid you won’t find much of that. Just bring me my black dress, it’s suitable enough,” Hecate says with a nod.

Ada only sighs and shakes her head. “Oh, Hecate, we really need to work on your sense of relaxation. Nevermind that, I’m sure I have something.”

Before Hecate can stop her, Ada transfers away. She’s back before too long, though, and Hecate immediately regrets wishing for her to hurry up when she spots the atrocious thing in Ada’s arms.

“I couldn’t resist,” Ada says giddily with a grin, holding the heinous creation up for Hecate to examine herself.

It’s a fluffy red sweater with a big smiling snowman waving from the center. Hecate’s nightmares couldn’t have fathomed a more terrifying creation. She’s almost certain the beady little coal eyes are glaring out at her.

“Ada, I’m not sure—“

“Oh, please, Hecate? It’s very comfortable. You won’t want to take it off.” Ada sets it nicely on the couch beside her. 

“I strongly doubt it will come to that,” Hecate says dryly. Her eyes widen as she spots the blue and white snowflake patterned material still in Ada’s hands. “And what, pray tell, is that?”

“The only pants I have that will fit you, I’m afraid. They might not be the perfect matching set, but I think you’ll find they’ll both keep you warm, and it’s only us,” Ada says with a wink. “Now, I imagine you must be as hungry as I’ve become. Why don’t I go down and make us something to eat while you get comfortable,” Ada suggests.

“Oh, you don’t have to, I am more than capable of helping,” Hecate says, starting to stand, still holding onto the blankets all the while.

Ada waves her off. “Dear, I mean this in the kindest way, but I don’t think you’ll be much help in this state. Your nose is beginning to match that sweater and you look two seconds away from falling asleep.”

Hecate pouts but listens, for once. Ada isn’t wrong. The more she thaws, the worse she feels.

“Then don’t worry about fixing anything for me. You are right, I should return to my bed and leave you to the rest of your day whilst I sleep it off.”

“Hecate,” Ada says warningly, “you really should eat something first. I’ll make a soup—it’ll warm you up inside.”

She does love Ada’s soups. It’s a tempting offer—all of this, all of Ada, is tempting in ways it shouldn’t be, and she should stop now before she gets too comfortable in something she’s only borrowing. 

“Hecate? What’s wrong?” Ada asks, kneeling down in front of her. She can feel that she has tears in her eyes and curses them.

“Why are you so kind to me?” Hecate asks with a sniffle. There are a million better things she could say, but it’s all that manages to come out.

Ada reels a bit at this, eyes widening. “I should have thought that was obvious.”

“Is it?” She shrugs. “I put down all the things you love, I argue with you on nearly every point. I can’t even just let you enjoy your favorite festivities without ruining them.”

Very tentatively, Ada reaches up and puts a hand on her shoulder.

“Now I think that’s quite enough nonsense, hmm?” she says softly. “I’ve always thought our differing views were what made us stronger friends. You don’t have to like any of what I like, just like I know you don’t expect me to be fascinated by the hundred different uses for mistletoe,” Ada giggles. “And you haven’t ruined anything at all. You were very kind to join me in all I’ve been asking you to do this week, sacrificing your alone time to do what I’m sure you’d rather have avoided. But you’re very wrong if you think any of it was about fulfilling some sort of Christmas checklist.”

“It wasn’t?”

“Hecate, it was about making memories with you. And I’d say you melting your way through the ice is rather memorable, wouldn’t you?” Ada jokes lightly. 

“Perhaps.” Hecate purses her lips.

“Now, I don’t know what’s brought this on, but I suspect you’re just too tired and the cold’s muddling your head a bit. Everything will look kinder after you’ve been fed and had a good rest, hmm?” Ada pats her on the knee and stands. “Get changed into those clothes I know you’re dreading, because I promise they’ll help you feel better, and I know even when you grumble you always listen to reason in the end, and I’ll be back with that soup.”

Hecate nods, waiting until Ada’s transferred away before moving from the blankets. Even with the fire roaring, she shivers at the loss of heat. Ada’s clothes really are the only good option, so with a heavy sigh, she transfers herself into them. Immediately she knows it’s a wise decision. 

Ada was right—the clothes are warm, and they’re soft in ways none of Hecate’s own have ever been, even if they are hideously festive. She snuggles back into her blankets, feeling the cozy effects of them just as the very best part hits her; the clothes smell just like Ada.

Perhaps she really won’t wish to take them off, she thinks with a yawn, and closes her eyes.

At some point, Hecate must have fallen asleep, for she wakes up to Ada gently shaking her shoulder and smiling from above with a steaming bowl of soup that smells so delightful, Hecate’s stomach nearly growls. Despite how everything aches, she can’t help smiling up at her, letting Ada help her sit up and taking the bowl gratefully. It is warm and delightful and so entirely _Ada_.

She eats eagerly, torn between wanting to return to her slumber and wanting to stay in the moment with Ada forever, all the while the older woman watches her with a funny grin on her face.

“What?” Hecate asks, wondering if she’s gotten soup in her hair.

“Oh, nothing,” Ada says, eyes twinkling in the warm firelight. “I was just noticing that I was right.”

“Were you?” Hecate hums.

“Mhmm. The red of that sweater definitely matches your nose.”

  



	6. Seventeen: Snowed In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update! That's all for catching up on this one, see you all tomorrow!

Seventeen: Snowed In

Of two things, Hecate is very certain as she awakes the next morning. Number one, the cold definitely has a hold on her, even after a full night of rest, and she very nearly whines over it. It’s an unbecoming noise, so she restrains herself from actually doing it. Number two, she’s surprisingly sad that Ada is going to be taking her leave to visit her family.

Well, perhaps not so surprisingly, if she really thinks about it.

For all her fears over the time alone with Ada, even with the worst possible scenarios coming about, she’s still found it impossible not to enjoy the other woman’s company. The pangs of longing don’t matter when Ada’s smiling at her, caring about her, making her feel like she almost might not be wrong about her affections. 

Suddenly staying alone in Cackle’s for a holiday she has little interest in celebrating, beyond the burning of her own yule log in the quiet, doesn’t really feel like enough.

To put it shortly, she will miss Ada. She will miss bring dragged along to “enjoy” the winter air.

She will especially miss Ada’s ridiculously comfortable clothing, which she still somehow seems to be wearing, though she will steadfastly refuse to admit it.

Hecate groans against a slowly building headache and forces herself out of bed. She can be ill and miserable later—first, she needs to show Ada off.

She considers remaining in the clothes, knowing Ada will be pleased, but thinks better of it. She was too vulnerable the night before, delirious with the frozen magic in her veins. She’s smarter now, more alert, more prepared to protect herself against unnecessary weaknesses, so she changes into her black dress and smooths it down at the sides.

There are deep circles under her eyes, and her nose is indeed an embarrassing shade of red—not at all surprising considering how irritated it still feels. This cold is well and truly trying to take her down, but it will just have to wait. She adds a little more makeup than usual to her routine in the bathroom, fixes her embarrassingly messy braid back into a neat bun, and transfers herself down to the front hall.

The move is regrettable, as it makes her head spin. Still, she must press on. Hecate turns, expecting to see Ada waiting at the door to say her goodbyes, and is surprised to find no sign of her. There’s not even a broom waiting aside for the journey.

Hecate frowns. Surely Ada wouldn’t leave without saying anything? It’s possible she wouldn’t have wished to disturb her after the night before, but Hecate very much would like to have been disturbed, and that doesn’t seem a very Ada thing to do.

Unless. She swallows thickly, wincing a bit as she feels the tightness in her throat.

Unless Ada truly was appalled by her, and only lying to avoid an uncomfortable moment. Perhaps she had noticed Hecate’s erratic heart or had been disgusted by her lapse in magical control. She feels the tears return unwillingly to her eyes, and forces them to stay put. She will not tarnish Ada’s good name with such thoughts.

Ada is too good of a person to ever look down on her, even when she deserves it, even if she truly has made a fool of herself in front of the older woman.

Ada is too good not to have said goodbye.

Closing her eyes and focusing on the sensation of the other woman’s magic, Hecate reaches out, finding her essence easily down in the kitchens. She breathes a sigh of relief—Ada is still in the castle. Choosing this time to take the safer route and walk, Hecate makes her way slowly down, shivering and missing the warmth of Ada’s sweater. The castle is drafty, and while she normally doesn’t mind, it seems warmth is all she craves now.

There is singing coming from the kitchens, and she smiles to herself before she’s even turned the corner. Ada’s in a positively wonderful mood, it seems.

“There you are,” she says softly, turning the corner into the kitchens to the sight of Ada surrounded by various bowls and a mess of ingredients scattered about. “What is this? Shouldn’t you be on your way?”

“Eager to get rid of me?”

“Not at all, I simply—”

“Relax, Hecate, I was making a joke,” Ada teases. “I’d have thought it would be obvious though, haven’t you looked outside?”

“No,” Hecate frowns. “Should I have?”

“Well if you had, you might have noticed it’s a complete whiteout. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me,” Ada explains. 

“It sounds to me like it’s much more the other way around and you’re stuck here with me. I’m sorry, I know how you were looking forward to celebrating with your mother. Do you think you’ll still be able to make it back?” Hecate asks, worrying at her sleeve.

Ada shrugs, knocking a jar of something over and barely taking any notice as it blends in with the rest of her mess. “Who can say? The weather witch claims it’s meant to clear up by tomorrow, but she also wasn’t any use in predicting its arrival, so I suppose we’ll just have to play it by ear. For now, I’ll just have to make do with what I have here—which is a lot of ingredients for Christmas cookies.” Ada giggles, popping a chocolate chip in her mouth and looking at Hecate conspiratorially. Already there seems to be quite a few floating around the kitchen.

“How have you already made so many?” she asks wearily.

“Oh, I’ve been at this for hours. It seemed like a good way to entertain myself while you slept. There’s cinnamon rolls over at the table, by the way, if you want to help yourself to some breakfast while I put the kettle on. I know it’s not very healthy, but I think we can have some fun. Snowstorms always make me want to indulge a bit.”

Hecate’s never been one for sweets for breakfast, but Ada’s excitement is contagious. She takes a seat and transfers herself a plate. It’s cold, but still somehow gooey in her mouth, and perhaps it converts her to sugar just a little. It’s so oddly domestic between them, and she smiles a bit, hidden behind her hand, wishing every morning could be so cozy.

“It’s delicious, Ada, truly. But… how long have you been awake?”

“Six hours?” she says with a shrug. 

“Ada! Didn’t you sleep at all?”

“Don’t fret, dear. It’s nearly two o’clock.”

Hecate chokes on her cinnamon roll, coughing until a glass of water appears beside her, which she gulps at greedily. “Did you say two?” she croaks out. “Why in the Goddess’ name did you let me sleep so late?”

“Because you’re on your break, even if you insist on having it within the school, and you’re ill, even if you think you can hide it from me,” Ada says pointedly.

“I wasn’t trying to hide it, exactly,” Hecate says, clearing her throat in embarrassment, “I just didn’t wish to worry you before you left for a long flight. It is just a cold, nothing catastrophic.” 

“Well I’m not going anywhere now, thanks to the snow, so there’s no need for any of that.” Ada walks over and sets down a steaming cup of tea with a heaping spoonful of honey melted into it. “Drink,” she orders.

Hecate does, sighing as it soothes her throat almost instantly, like magic. “What have you put in this?” She lifts a questioning brow.

“Just some of mother’s special honey, it’s very gentle on the throat and I thought you might need some. Is it helping?” she asks hopefully.

Hecate nods. “It is, thank you. It seems I’m to continue owing you a great deal for all you’ve been doing for me, which hardly seems fair when it’s your break too.”

“You owe me nothing. You’d do the same if things were reversed.”

Hecate knows she’s right. She’d do anything for Ada.

“I suppose I can accept that, then, but I’m fine now. Go back to your attempts to turn the two of us into bloated whales with all your cookies,” Hecate says with a smirk. 

Ada seems about to do just that, rolling her eyes at Hecate’s exaggeration—though honestly, she must have made hundreds for the two of them already—but stops in her steps, looking down wearily at Hecate.

“Is there something else?”

“You could join me, if you want?” Ada suggests. “I know it’s a little more festive than you normally like, but it can be fun.”

“As it happens, I am rather fond of baking from time to time, and I don’t wish to abandon you to have to celebrate alone, however,” Hecate pauses and pulls a black handkerchief from her sleeve, turning to the side to sneeze thrice succinctly into it. “I’ve had enough of that,” she grumbles to herself with a frown before turning back to Ada. “As you can see, I’m not sure you truly want _my_ help with your baking right now.”

“I don’t mind a few sniffles and sneezes. I know you think I’m silly for all my festive decorations and activities, but it’s the togetherness I really love,” Ada confesses quietly. “The rest is just a nice reminder of it. I don’t know about you, but I’ve rather enjoyed spending the past few days with you, this year. In a way, I’m glad I’m stuck here longer. Don’t tell Mother,” she adds with a wink.

Hecate is stunned speechless for a moment. The very idea that she hasn’t been holding Ada back, that her presence has been what’s made it enjoyable for her all along, nearly throws her off her chair. 

“I don’t think you’re silly at all,” she whispers. “I think that sounds rather… nice. In fact, if you’re certain you don’t mind… I am loathe to get you ill, too…” Hecate hesitates.

“I’ll take my chances. Now come along, I’ll find you an apron. Unless you’d rather rest? I forgot to ask if you’re even up to it, I got so excited,” Ada giggles, looking hesitantly back at Hecate.

Rest, however, is the very last thing she wants to consider. _Two o’clock in the afternoon. Honestly?!_ She stands quickly and sharply and marches over to the counter. “Very well, put me to work. Teach me your traditions and I’ll do my best to make it so we may do them together.”


	7. Twenty: Holiday Spirit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one may be admittedly a little less fluffy at the end, but I PROMISE they'll get there. The month is almost over, after all. Happy holidays!

Twenty: Holiday Spirits

Hecate is generally a heavy sleeper, which is why she’s surprised to find her eyes fluttering open in the dark as a blustery chill runs over her body. She blinks, half awake, half still back in the coziness of her dream of tea with Ada, wondering if somehow the window’s blown open.

She coughs and groans, forcing herself up in bed and summoning her dressing gown against the castle draft. It’s too late for this, she should be sleeping, but there’s no sense in trying now when she’ll only sit and shiver in concern until she investigates. It’s not like her to leave a window open overnight, and even less like her window to be so disobedient.

True to form, it is shut tight. She runs a finger over the latch and sighs. The cold must be messing with her head—and apparently with her body temperature. She loathes wellness potions—they make her head feel as though it’s been filled with smoke—but it seems one may perhaps be in order in the morning. 

Hecate grumpily heads to the large armoire in the corner of her room, eyes already threatening to send her back to her dreams, and pulls out a big thick woolen blanket. Too tired to bother with making up her bed, she merely wraps it around herself—dressing gown and all—and shuffles back to the warmth of her bed. She can mind her own lack of practicality in the morning. 

Just as she’s about to return to that much-needed bed, however, the chill runs through Hecate again. It feels like liquid metal running through her bones, like the layers of protection from the cold aren’t even there. It’s familiar, somehow, though she can’t quite place her finger on it…

As Hecate reaches out to pull her bedding back down to allow herself to slip inside, she’s met again by a strange sensation, only this time it takes the form of a tinkle of wind chimes. She startles and drops the comforter with a gasp, mind pulling out of her sleepy fog enough to place it, and she feels foolish at once for not recognizing it straight away.

There is no breeze causing the chill—only a spirit. 

One she’s indeed encountered before, and the satisfaction of having identified her disruptor lasts only seconds before it sets in that it’s _back_.

It’s back, and this time she’s not alone in the castle. This time Ada is here, and unprepared, and all she can think is getting to Ada _now._

Hecate transfers herself to just outside Ada’s bedroom door, blanket and all. Even with a mind addled by sleep and illness, it’s as far as decorum will permit her to go. She knocks sharply and succinctly, hoping Ada is a much lighter sleeper than herself.

Finally after a few tense moments, during which Hecate swears she can hear the wind chimes distantly moving closer, the door is pulled open to reveal a sleep-tousled Ada. Her hair is askew, she’s squinting to see without her glasses, and she’s wearing the most ridiculous holiday onesie complete with a reindeer in the front.

Hecate has never seen a more beautiful sight, and for a moment she forgets why she’s even come.

“Hecate? Is everything all right?” Ada asks, concerned.

“Ada, I apologize for the interruption, but I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important. Might I come in?” she asks nervously. It feels like too much to seek entrance to Ada’s private bed chambers, but she needs to make sure Ada’s safe, needs to protect her. The older woman seems to hesitate for a moment, but finally nods and steps aside. Hecate wastes no time barging inside and sealing the door shut behind her.

“Hecate, what’s going on?” Ada asks. In the corner of her eye, Hecate can see Ada moving over to her end table and feeling around for her glasses, but she has bigger concerns first. 

She reaches out with her magic, making sure the space is empty. Satisfied they’re alone, Hecate ignores Ada’s pleas for an explanation and sets to work marking each wall with a protection spell, not pausing in her efforts until she’s fully satisfied the ghost will not be able to break through. By then, her exhaustion is back in full force, and she just barely manages to drop onto a couch by Ada’s roaring fire. 

“Hecate?” Ada asks, sounding rather frustrated. She grunts, kneeling down in front of Hecate before she can wave her away. “Has something happened?”

“It is nothing to be concerned about now, merely a yuletide spirit with a penchant for visiting around the holidays each year. I realized as I was awoken that I forgot to warn you. I’m usually alone when it arrives,” she explains with a sniffle. 

“A ghost? In Cackle’s? Oh dear, we haven’t had one since I was a student. Or apparently we have,” she eyes Hecate pointedly. “Is it a particularly nasty one? I’m sorry you’ve been dealing with it all on your own.”

“Not really. She brings a chill and the sound of wind chimes. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of her cloak passing around the corner, but otherwise she’s nothing too difficult for me to handle. I saw no reason to bother you with it,” Hecate explains tiredly. She wants to snuggle further into her blanket and closer to Ada’s fire, but it’s bad enough she’s already intruded upon her space at such an hour. 

Ada blinks up at her funnily and stands, whining a bit to herself at the movement and taking the cushion beside Hecate. “I see,” she says carefully. “And the protection spells?”

Hecate frowns. “I didn’t want you to be disturbed by her. It’s rather unpleasant.”

“Mmm, yes, it would have been a shame to have my sleep interrupted,” Ada teases. Hecate can feel her cheeks heating up in embarrassment as the words settle upon her. Oh.

“I apologize, Ada. My head… I wasn’t thinking clearly. I should let you get back to bed.” Hecate stands, hoping a walk back to her chambers will do a better job of calming her mind than a transfer spell, but Ada reaches out a hand to stop her.

“Don’t be silly, I appreciate the thought. Why don’t you stay?” she suggests.

“Pardon?” The very last thing Hecate expects is to be invited to _stay_ in Ada’s room during the _night_. It wouldn’t mean the same to Ada, and it wouldn’t be fair. She’s intruded far more than she realized, and quickens her pace.

“I mean, I can put on some tea, if you’d like? Or we can just sit and enjoy the fire? It would be a shame for all your protective spells to be wasted on me,” Ada says kindly.

“I feel that I’ve already disrupted your night more than adequately.”

“Then let me get my payback and disrupt yours for a bit longer, hmm?” Ada asks, twinkle in her eye as the firelight reflects back. Hecate sits with little resistance, somehow used to sharing a fire with Ada now. She’ll miss it when the new term begins and the school goes back to a series of constant bustling interruptions. In this little bubble of warmth, Hecate can pretend it means more. She can pretend Ada’s sitting beside her for a deeper reason, that her gaze is more than friendly. She feels soft and comfortable here beside her, the night so quiet and the fire so cozy.

It would be so easy to bridge the gap between them, to invite Ada into the warmth of her blanket, to tell her how she feels and pour it out between them. She won’t be judged, she knows. Not in the firelight, not by Ada.

She meets Ada’s eyes, feeling emboldened, and opens her mouth. She can tell Ada senses what’s coming, that she’s waiting for Hecate to finally spit it out.

But the moment is wrong, and no sound leaves her parted lips, and Ada deflates in front of her with disappointment that only echoes Hecate’s own shame. To tell her would be to ruin the fantasy.

“Goodnight, Ada,” she says instead. Hecate does transfer away this time—before Ada can respond or try and stop her. She transfers back to the cold of her own bedroom, wind chimes still tinkling ominously around her, but she is tired and ashamed so she lets the sound carry on even as she curls back under the covers and hides herself away.


	8. Twenty Five: Myths and Legends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Had to take a little break to work on some other writing stuff, but I couldn't resist staying away for long. Given the shortness of these chapters, I will likely just write and post the last two today as well. Thank you so much to everyone who has been so kind about this story. I cannot wait for all the new, bigger Hackle things I have in store for you soon!

Twenty Five: Winter Myths & Legends

“Hecate, dear?” Ada begins the next morning, looking like she wants to ask far too many questions. Hecate begrudgingly knows that because it’s Ada, she’ll answer them all, but that doesn’t mean she has to be pleased about it. 

She’s embarrassed from the night before, head still foggy with her cold. It seems cruel that Ada has been denied a chance to return home for the holidays and instead found herself trapped in a castle with Hecate. Her control has utterly slipped through her fingers, and she’s nearly panting with the effort to cling to the last bits of it. Her magic has betrayed her, and her body not far behind. It’s only a matter of time before she blurts out her deepest secrets too, because naturally her heart will follow.

“I’ve been thinking about your spirit.”

Ada seems surprised by her own words, and they’re certainly not what Hecate’s expects to hear. She knows Ada must _know_ , must be trying her best to spare her the embarrassment of acknowledging it. 

Just as she also knows she can only be spared for so long.

“I’m not sure I would call her _my_ spirit,” Hecate says uneasily.

“Well, I’ve been thinking about the spirit, and I’m not quite sure she’s a spirit at all. At least, not in so many words.”

They’re sitting across the table in the kitchen, eating the leftovers from Ada’s baking the day before. Hecate takes a long gulp of coffee. She’s unsure where this conversation is going, but she thinks she should probably be awake for it.

“Ada,” she sighs, “I think I can recognize a ghost when I see one.”

“Well, that’s just it. You yourself told me last night you haven’t seen her, only a bit of her cloak. I didn’t think anything of it at first, what with it being the middle of the night,” Ada eyes her pointedly, making Hecate blush. “But the more I do think on it, and the fact that she only seems to bother you during the holidays, it sounds a lot like it could be the White Witch.”

Hecate blinks. “The children’s myth?” Ada has to be teasing her.

Ada doesn’t seem to find it a joke, however, and nods vigorously. “Exactly the one.”

“Ada, she is but a mere story told to little witch children every yuletide season. An excuse for frivolity and excess in the form of gifts from their parents that they certainly do not need. The White Witch is not _real.”_

Ada hums and clicks her tongue, looking at Hecate curiously. She stops herself from wriggling in her seat under the scrutiny, suddenly not entirely comfortable. 

“Surely you found her just as enchanting as a child,” Ada says softly, looking off like she’s thinking wistfully of her own childhood. “Is it really so hard to do the same now?”

She’s so tempted to lie, to let the conversation die right there with that nostalgic smile still on Ada’s face, but she cannot stand the thought of ever lying to Ada.

Hecate sniffs. “I would not know, my parents did not believe in filling my head with childish fantasies. We spent the holidays in solemn reflection around the fire. There were certainly no gifts or any tales of magical witches delivering them.”

“That must have been difficult when you returned to school and the other children were full of stories about what the White Witch brought them,” Ada says knowingly. Hecate nods, afraid to look up at her and see any pity in her eyes. She has long since grown past the age of pitying herself, and does not need it from anyone else, least of all Ada.

“The first year, I’ll admit, I was quite distraught that she hadn’t brought me anything. Some of the children said that meant I must be… well, it does not matter what they said. What matters is that my father sat me down during the next break and explained to me the lies told by other parents, and the wasteful nature of their gift-giving. He told me that Hardbrooms do not cover our doors in holly, sing carols, or expect items without cause. We reflect with no distractions.”

“So that’s why you hate to celebrate?” She’s surprised to find no judgment in Ada’s voice, nor pity. Only curiosity. 

“I would not say I _hate_ it. I haven’t hated celebrating with you,” Hecate adds quietly. “But I certainly don’t believe some mythical White Witch has been prowling around my rooms every holiday season.”

“Perhaps not,” Ada says less than convincingly.

This time, Hecate lets it go. If Ada wishes to believe the White Witch is haunting her, there’s no use in trying to change her mind about it. 

“But I do mean what I said, Ada. I truly have enjoyed spending the days with you. Festivities are not quite as abominable as I may have been led to believe,” she admits, thinking back on their time together. The ice skating had been a disaster, to put it mildly, but hadn’t it ended well? She still had yet to quite relinquish her hold on Ada’s warm sweater, and Ada, as if understanding, had yet to ask for it back. Then she’d baked cookies with Ada, and that had been one of the best-spent afternoons she could recall in quite some time.

Perhaps the only truly abysmal thing about celebrating before had merely been the thought of having to do it alone.

Ada smiles at her, reaching out a hand across the table and leaving her palm open—waiting.

“I’m glad to hear that, dear. Truthfully, I was a little worried. You haven’t exactly had the best of luck,” Ada points out, frowning slightly. 

“I wouldn’t say that. I’ve been able to spend many hours by your side. What could be luckier?” Hecate blushes at her own confession, looking down at the table to avoid Ada’s eyes. Her hand is still there, waiting.

Hecate considers taking it. It seems foolish to leave such a beautifully offered gift untouched when it’s all Hecate wants. There’s nothing difficult about reaching her hand across the table, and yet, it feels like climbing a mountain.

What will it mean if she takes it? Hecate’s under no illusions that Ada doesn’t at least suspect her feelings. The weather is poor for flying, but hardly enough to normally stop Ada Cackle. She’s here because she wants to be, and just maybe, the hand means what Hecate wants it to mean too.

And just maybe, that prospect is no more terrifying than falling through the ice and waking up to ghosts, when Ada’s always there to make it right.

Taking a deep breath, Hecate reaches out her hand and curls it into Ada’s open palm, and they quietly continue their breakfast holding hands.


	9. Twenty Seven: Fireside Confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the absolute fluffiest fluff I have ever written, and I consider myself fairly well versed in all things soft. Please enjoy, fingers crossed I won't rot any teeth XD One chapter to go!

Twenty Seven: Fireside Confessions

It’s the way they’re cuddled in front of the fire that evening that prompts Hecate to do it.

They haven’t spoken about the hand holding or what it might mean to one another, but there has been a notable shift following it. A fragile little barrier has been brushed aside as though it never really existed—and in many ways, Hecate wonders at how it even remained at all. They’ve always moved closely, synchronized in ways Hecate has never allowed another to even try, but there were limits then. There were hands reaching but never quite making contact, looks broken away a second too soon. Now that seems entirely non-existent as a concept, and they connect.

She knows she cannot be silent about it forever—even if Ada is content to simply continue along like nothing’s changed, Hecate knows she’ll never be able to do the same. It is too different, too _good_ not to treasure and proclaim and define.

She doesn’t want to brush it all aside this time.

Somehow they’ve ended up in a position Hecate can only explain as cuddling on Ada’s couch. The fire is lit, warming the room. Hecate had begun the evening wrapped in a blanket to keep away the remaining chill, still feeling poorly, while Ada read aloud beside her. It was nice, but no longer enough under this new, unbroken closeness they were cultivating together. Hecate wanted more, and so she scooted closer, and soon Ada followed, looping one arm around Hecate’s shoulders and guiding her the rest of the way in. She put her head on Ada’s shoulder and snuck one hand from the blanket to help steady the book while Ada turned the pages, still reading in a low murmur.

And now they’re here, the book long since put aside in a desire for comfort, replaced by one of Ada’s favorite records. Every so often her hand begins to rub up and down Hecate’s arm in tune with the music, and she’s so entirely relaxed she thinks she could fall asleep right here in Ada’s arms.

That’s how she knows the time has come, and for once doesn’t feel like swallowing her own tongue at the thought of it. Because she’s in Ada’s arms, and she’s not worried about her heartbeat giving her away. She’s not worried about _anything_ , she’s so relaxed.

Ada’s arms are as safe as Ada herself, and she knows, just _knows_ that she can tell her here. She can lay it all out in front of them both, and Ada won’t be appalled, won’t run away even if she doesn’t at all feel the same.

“Ada?” Hecate rasps. 

“Yes, dear?” Ada replies, sounding just as tranquil.

Reluctant to leave the warm embrace, Hecate forces herself to sit up, still close but now able to see Ada’s face. She doesn’t want to hide from her reaction this time. Hecate clears her throat.

“I need to tell you something,” she admits softly.

Ada’s eyes widen, but she nods encouragingly, settling her hands in her lap to give Hecate the space to do as she needs. 

“There are… things I have not been entirely honest about.”

“Oh?”

“I wasn’t excited when you told me you were staying,” she confesses. “I lied.”

“I know,” Ada says softly, smiling over at her.

Hecate furrows her brow. “You did? I’m sorry, I…”

“There’s no need to be sorry, dear. I had a strong suspicion as to why you might have been feeling that way. And I hope that I might have been right to stay anyways?”

“Oh, Ada, of course you were.” Hecate pauses, trying to compose herself, trying to reel in the too many emotions threatening to spill out, but then she stops herself. Ada’s hand reaches out for her own, and she takes it back, and it’s okay to be vulnerable here in this moment. It’s always okay to be vulnerable, here with this woman.

“What I’m trying to say is that I was terrified you might discover my secret, and the thought of losing you over that was not something I wanted to even consider.”

“There’s nothing that could ever make that happen, Hecate. No matter what, you’ll always have me. In whatever way you choose,” Ada emphasizes.

Hecate blushes at the implication, wanting to simply reach out and take her, but needing first to say more, to finish what she’s started. “The thing is, I believe I was foolish to think you did not already know. I have never been successful at hiding anything from you.”

“Perhaps not,” Ada says with an amused little chuckle, “but I hope I’ve always given you enough space to tell me in your own time?”

“You do, as much as you push me when I need it.” Hecate can feel the emotions overtaking her quickly, threatening to cut off her words. She lets the tears spill over, lets them flow hotly down her cheeks so Ada can see every last bit of her. “I can’t imagine my life without you in it, Ada. I don’t want this to change that, but I cannot continue to lie to myself that I can go on in the way I have. I enjoy holding your hand,” she says, squeezing Ada’s palm in her lap for emphasis. “And I equally enjoy the way it makes my heart beat louder than that insipid school clock. And I’m sorry, but I very much enjoy the fact that I seem to have fallen in love with you.”

Silence falls between them for one perfect second that seems to last eons, then Ada’s face cracks into a beaming smile. “If that’s something to be sorry for, then I suppose I likewise owe you an apology,” Ada says with a little laugh. She unlinks their hands and reaches up to cup Hecate’s cheek in her palm, thumbing away one of the tears. “Now, are you going to kiss me? Because I have been waiting a very long time for that apology, being so in love myself, and I’m not sure how much longer I can hand—”

Ada is cut off as Hecate surges forward, capturing her lips in a kiss full of all the many years of apologies for love they both have been collecting. Hecate knows she is a mess, probably tastes of salty tears, but Ada shows no sign that she minds. 

She pulls away with a gasp and a smile, their foreheads pressed together.

“You’ll get my cold,” Hecate warns, biting her bottom lip apologetically but still unable to contain the smile that simply won’t leave her face.

“If it means I get to do that again, I’ll gladly suffer through,” Ada replies just as giddily.

Hecate loves kissing Ada. She’s soft and warm and all the things she’s imagined, but somehow better, and so she does it again.

They kiss for a long while in front of the fire, taking many pauses to breathe, to look at one another, to gather every last lingering touch they can after so long deprived.

In many ways, their newfound synchronicity seems to evaporate as they meld together into one solid being, clinging to one another with two hearts beating in time together, overpoweringly loud.

“Come to bed with me?” Ada asks hours later as they sit there wrapped comfortably in each other’s arms before the fire, saying nothing and yet so much. 

Hecate nods, never more sure of herself than she feels in that moment. They have since laughed and cried, admitted many things in whispers between kisses. It feels like a dream, and she never wants it to end. Hecate discards the blanket, knowing she won’t need it where they’re going, and stands. She moves towards Ada’s bed, for they had already been lying upon her more intimate sofa, and frowns when Ada doesn’t immediately follow.

“Darling, what are you doing?” she asks with a frown. Ada is bent over the hearth arranging something. She turns around with a sheepish grin, caught, and steps aside so Hecate can take a look herself.

There is a plate with cookies beside a cup of tea charmed to remain warm through the night, and while Hecate has never partaken in the tradition herself, she knows enough to realize what it means and raises a single questioning brow at her companion.

“For the White Witch,” she explains unnecessarily. “It would be rude to slight her on tonight of all nights, especially considering the gift she delivered to my bedroom last night,” she says with a wink. 

Hecate rolls her eyes but can’t help her smile. Ada Cackle is entirely adorable, and now entirely hers. She grabs her hand and tugs her towards the bed before any other distractions can overtake her giddy eyes.

“Come along, you,” Hecate teases.

And together at just the right time, they fall into her sheets.


	10. Twenty Nine: Absence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alas, we have come to the end of this little journey! Thank you so much for sticking with me even though I well surpassed the fluff month, and for everyone who read and left me the sweetest comments. I very much appreciated every single one!

Twenty Nine: Absence

Hecate awakens in the morning to find something missing.

She’s wrapped warmly in Ada’s sheets, the older woman securely in her arms. At some point in the night she moved behind her, spooning Ada tightly against her front. Hecate flushes in embarrassment, already half pulled away before she remembers.

She’s allowed to be here, holding Ada. Because Ada loves her back.

This is an especially welcome revelation, as Hecate next realizes she’s not wearing any clothes. Ada grumbles at her movements, sleepily tugging at her arm to bring her back, and she feels more than sees that Ada is in a similar state of undress when she follows the silent command. Hecate’s smile widens—she definitely now remembers _that_.

“Good morning,” Hecate murmurs. She brushes aside Ada’s messy hair with her nose and kisses the nape of her neck. It’s an action she feels she can more than get used to adding to her morning routine.

“Mmm,” Ada hums, shifting in Hecate’s arms to turn around and face her. “Beautiful,” she breathes, blinking herself awake and staring right across at her.

“I’m sure I look like a mess,” Hecate corrects, blushing anyways. 

Ada chuckles. “No more than I, and I think after last night we both deserve it just a bit.”

Hecate reaches up at the thought, mindlessly untangling a lock of Ada’s hair. It feels right to be here, less terrifying than she’d have ever thought it might be. Fixing Ada’s hair is as natural as fixing her own.

“I think we both could use a shower,” Hecate proposes, wrinkling her nose. 

They clean up a little more slowly than Hecate would like, but she certainly has no complaints as to the cause of their delays. They come out after a time feeling much more refreshed and ready to face the day.

“Is that what you’re wearing?” Ada asks as Hecate transfers herself into one of her usual dark dresses. She frowns, wondering what’s wrong with it.

“I had planned to. Why?”

“Oh, nothing,” Ada brushes it off, but now she has Hecate’s curiosity, and she presses her for a better answer.

“It’s only just that it’s a bit of a tradition in my house that we spend the White Witch’s morning in our pajamas. Of course, you don’t have to…”

Hecate waits for nothing more, summoning instead her favorite silk purple night set to her arms and swapping them on. “Better?” she asks, smiling slyly.

Ada practically beams. “If you’re certain,” she says to be polite, but Hecate can tell how much it pleases her that she’s willing to partake in her little traditions, and she’s never felt more certain of anything else. Ada has her own festive red set on, and she looks ravishing in them. Hecate has a newfound hobby, and she’s not entirely sure the outfits will last very long anyways.

For now, however, she merely nods and holds out her hand to lead Ada over to the fireplace for a nice breakfast cup of tea.

“Oh, look at that, it seems the White Witch decided to return this year. I bet it was the cookies,” Ada chirps, clasping her hands together and looking over at Hecate with a knowing twinkle in her eye.

Hecate frowns and steps around her to see what she means. The plate Ada had left out the night before is empty save for some crumbs, the tea about half gone. 

“When did you do that?” Hecate is a light sleeper and is certain she would have noticed Ada getting up in the night for a snack, especially considering how tightly she had apparently tucked herself around the other witch. Ada doesn’t immediately answer—no doubt trying to instill some childish mystery into it all—and Hecate lets her gaze wander further across the room. Under Ada’s little tree they’d decorated earlier in the week, sitting off to the side in the corner, are two pristinely wrapped presents. “Or that?” she adds.

Ada turns, looking just as surprised as Hecate, and walks over to assess the packages. “They seem to be addressed to us!”

Hecate resists the urge to roll her eyes. A very deep down part of her that doesn’t wish to admit it, is touched. That Ada would go through all this trouble to give her the holiday she’d always been denied as a child is really quite nice. Instead she joins her at the tree, kissing her cheek thoughtfully and smiling down at her. “Thank you, Ada,” she says softly. 

Ada smiles back. “I should be thanking you. It was kind of you to play along like this. I haven’t had a fun White Witch morning in ages. I don’t know how you found the time to do it without my notice.”

Hecate’s frown returns. “But you did this.”

“Sorry? Did what?” Ada turns her attention from the two twin gifts beneath the little tree and looks at Hecate like she’s grown another head.

“The cookies and the gifts,” Hecate insists. “You can play coy all you like, but I know it was you, and I want you to know that I appreciate the effort.”

Ada continues frowning up at her for a moment, but then her face shifts into a jolly sort of smile, and she stands holding both packages. “I see what you’re doing,” Ada says, winking.

Hecate does not see what she’s doing, because she doesn’t think she’s doing anything at all. “Ada?”

“Of course, it wasn’t you. The White Witch left them.” She smiles, winking again.

“Ada, I did not do this,” Hecate says very seriously. “This is not a rouse to throw you off the trail.”

Ada shrugs. “Then I suppose the White Witch came back after all—good to know you didn’t scare her off.”

Ada simply smiles, pats her arm, and carries their gifts over to the couch like their security hasn’t been breached, and for a very serious moment Hecate is ready to sound the alarm. The White Witch has broken back into Cackle’s and—she pauses her own thoughts. The White Witch is a children’s myth, of course this is Ada’s doing. She’s only playing a game to try and instill a little magic into Hecate’s morning.

Smiling, she sits down on the couch beside her, and does not object when Ada hands her one of the packages.

“Shall we open them together?” Ada asks giddily.

“Why not,” Hecate agrees.

Ada tears into her paper while Hecate carefully unfolds a little corner and does her best to keep the wrapping intact. There’s no need to waste it. However, at Ada’s gasp beside her, she cannot help the way her fingers slightly speed up, and soon she is holding her own open in her lap.

Hecate blinks, hoping it might change before her eyes but no…

“It’s another holiday jumper?”

She looks over at Ada, who is holding up one of her own to admire it. “Oh, this is charming! I love the little penguins.” Ada’s is green this time, and right in the center is a little scene of two small penguins wearing sunglasses. It’s hideous and ridiculous, but Hecate instantly loves it because it makes Ada smile. Hecate’s own is more demur, but still far too extravagant for her own taste. It is black, but a little polar bear smiles out from the center as if challenging her with cheer.

“Is mine so I won’t thieve away yours this time?” Hecate quips playfully. She’s secretly pleased by the gift, though she’s loathe to say so. Ada’s sweater had been so warm, and this one looks of a similar build. She can’t wait to snuggle into it.

“I should more be concerned that mine was so you’d have yet another to thieve away,” Ada teases back. 

Hecate can’t help it this time—she rolls her eyes and looks at Ada pointedly. “Your game has been admittedly rather fun, but I would appreciate if you would stop now so that I can properly thank you for the gift.”

“I’ve already told you, Hecate, it wasn’t me. And if you didn’t do it, then that leaves only the White Witch,” Ada says with a shrug.

Hecate sighs at her silly witch and does something very rare for Hecate Hardbroom—she gives in. If Ada wants her to believe the White Witch came to Cackle’s and dropped off a couple of hideous jumpers, she’ll believe it for Ada. “Well then, since I cannot in good conscience kiss her in thanks, might I at least deliver that to you?”

Ada pretends to think. “I believe that would be fair.”

And so she does. Several times more, until their stomachs are practically rumbling with hunger and they’re forced to seek breakfast.

Later in the day they exchange gifts with one another—Hecate insisting Ada’s already given her too much and Ada insisting it was all the work of the White Witch yet again. They spend the day around the fire, Hecate reading her new potions book and Ada doodling away in her new journal. When Hecate suggests they take to the school roof to watch the stars, Ada brings hot chocolate, and when Hecate realizes Ada has indeed caught her cold, she insists they return inside and bundles them both warmly in their new jumpers. 

And if that night Hecate dreams of a cape and wind chimes while she’s tucked back around the only gift that truly matters, well, they might just find themselves to be as welcome as a dragon in a snowstorm.


End file.
